


What We Aren't

by viiaitch



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 15:17:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21322309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiaitch/pseuds/viiaitch
Summary: so i wrote most of this in like an hour and a half. while all the plotty stuff i write takes at least three times as long. guess you can tell what genre i'm most familiar with,,kind of started off as my take on my friend vois' gift fic for me from a while ago, tho kind of took on a life of its own,,pls go give him love he deserves it-!last note, i pretty much always default to m!byleth fhjsdk sry if anyone likes f!byleth more-- just. my first playthrough is always as the male mc, and also f!byleth's outfit physically pains me to look at. it's medieval fantasy land why does she look like a 2010 emo kid this hurts me so much bc she had so much potential
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Bladdyd/Male My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 7
Kudos: 170





	What We Aren't

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [let sleeping beasts lie (in wait)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20468837) by [vois](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vois/pseuds/vois). 

Dimitri saw him fall from that cliff. He saw the professor- saw  _ Byleth _ stumble back, righting himself just before the edge, and he saw the ground crumble and give way, taking the professor with it.

Dimitri was too far to see clearly, but he still imagines what Byleth’s face looked like as solid earth gave way to air. His cool face twisted with shock or fear, the normally emotionless front cracked and changed with the knowledge of what was to come.

Nobody could survive a fall from that height.

The anguished cries of the beast on the battlefield almost match those of the dragon in front of him.

* * *

It’s all a blur from that point. Saliva, blood, and tears swirling into a sticky, sickening mixture on Dimitri’s face. Classmates screaming, fleeing, tripping over the bodies of fallen soldiers in their haste. The explosive expansion of air from flying spells, powerful and destructive, and the burning smell of flesh when they hit their mark.

He doesn’t remember leaving the battlefield. He barely remembers returning to Fhirdiad. His imprisonment is a swirl of anger and despair-  _ Uncle is gone, the professor is gone, Edelgard is as good as gone.  _

There’s a spot of clarity, of the inner courtyard of the castle- of being chained, his clothes grimy and his wrists and ankles rubbed raw from the heavy metal cuffs on them, and then of shouts and the all too familiar sound of battle.

Dedue roars for Dimitri to  _ move,  _ and he does, he wrenches his chains apart with the strength of the beast he is, claws his way through Cornelia’s soldiers, and then-

Dedue is gone too, and Dimitri is more alone than he was even in the depths of the castle’s cells.

He almost gives up- almost lets himself collapse into a snowbank, let his land retake his body, perhaps return him to those he misses.

But the angry hissing of the dead doesn’t allow him, and Dimitri gives in to them, lets their phantom hands drag him to his feet and push him through forests and across rivers until his ragged boots stumble over rocks, and his exhausted eyes find the ruins of the first place he’d truly considered a home since Duscur.

  
  


* * *

  
  


He didn’t expect to find anything. There wasn’t any point, clawing through rubble until his fingers bled, foregoing sleep in favor of searching, checking every corpse for that green hair, that cloak, anything. Maybe Dimitri would die while he combed through the rubble; maybe an unsteady wall would collapse on him, or his growing hunger would do him in. The specters that keep him from rest won’t let him kill himself, won’t let him give in until he’s gotten them their revenge, but maybe if it’s a situation out of his control...

It’s when Dimitri stumbles to the nearby river, hoping to clean and numb his hands so he can return to his search, that he finally finds him.

Dimitri’s cry when he drags Byleth, unconscious but breathing, from the water is barely human.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Maybe it’s a hallucination of his exhausted mind. Maybe it’s the corpse of some unknown, or a piece of driftwood, or just entirely a figment of his imagination.

Dimitri doesn’t care if it is.

It’s the professor. It’s Byleth.

It doesn’t make sense, that he would be alive for so long after the battle, that he would happen to float down the river just when Dimitri was there, that he hasn’t woken for a week and yet still looks healthy and like his eyes could flutter open at any moment.

It doesn’t matter if he’s real or fake or a ghost.

When Dimitri watches over Byleth, the voices of the dead don’t bother him as much.

* * *

He’s not sure if Byleth needs to eat, but Dimitri decides if he’s to stand vigil over the professor, it’s best to at least feed himself.

It didn’t matter before, but Dimitri didn’t have Byleth to protect before.

The young doe’s neck snaps easily in Dimitri’s hands, and he cooks its meat until it’s charred black. The taste doesn’t bother him, but when he tilts Byleth’s head back, presses his lips to the professor’s as he passes the chewed food into his mouth and coaxes his throat to swallow, he hopes the professor can’t taste in his long sleep.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The nights are cold, and even with the furs Dimitri lays down for Byleth, he worries for the professor. When he feeds him in the mornings, his skin is always chilled.

It’s when Dimitri notices frost on Byleth’s lashes, the morning after a snowfall, that he starts spending his nights curled protectively around the professor, holding Byleth’s head to his chest like a lover.

He feels sick at how his body sings at the contact, but it’s for Byleth.

It’s for Byleth.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When did Dimitri manage to delude himself into thinking he was still a man?

Felix was always right.

Byleth’s body is cool to the touch, but warmer than the air around it, and so, so open beneath Dimitri’s palms.

He nearly throws up the first time he slides his fingers into the professor, lurches back and paces the rest of the evening, the dead screaming in his head until his eyes pound. 

Disgusting.

Dimitri should have let the frost take his life.

The professor would hate him if he knew.

It doesn’t stop him from doing it again three days later.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The only time Byleth’s body responds is to Dimitri’s touch- to his hands on Byleth’s throat, gentle and coaxing, helping ease food into the professor’s stomach, and to his cock, firm and unrelenting, selfishly tearing pleasure from an unwitting partner because Dimitri is too weak to refuse himself.

He ruts into Byleth’s body like a stud in heat, leaves marks along Byleth’s cool skin for every hitch he hears in the professor’s breath, and finishes deep inside, leaving a mess he knows he won’t be able to bear cleaning up for hours.

At least the professor climaxes as well, spilling over his stomach and dirtying Dimitri’s conscience even more in the process. He wonders what Byleth dreams of, when Dimitri succumbs to his physical needs. 

He hopes whoever Byleth’s mind conjures when Dimitri forces pleasure upon him, they’re a better lover than Dimitri.

Pathetic.

Dimitri wonders if the professor would have been better off if Dimitri had left him in the river.

But he knows better than to think he could ever have left Byleth behind.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Dimitri blinks awake on the day of the Millennium Festival, to see Byleth blink back at him.

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote most of this in like an hour and a half. while all the plotty stuff i write takes at least three times as long. guess you can tell what genre i'm most familiar with,,
> 
> kind of started off as my take on my friend vois' gift fic for me from a while ago, tho kind of took on a life of its own,,  
pls go give him love he deserves it-!
> 
> last note, i pretty much always default to m!byleth fhjsdk sry if anyone likes f!byleth more-- just. my first playthrough is always as the male mc, and also f!byleth's outfit physically pains me to look at. it's medieval fantasy land why does she look like a 2010 emo kid this hurts me so much bc she had so much potential


End file.
